Sunday Morning Memories
by BallisticsBabe
Summary: GSR. Grissom makes the biggest mistake of his life and shatters his relationship with Sara in the process. Will he be able to fix it or will Sara refuse his charms? Ch.3 is up!
1. Default Chapter

_**Sunday Morning Memories**_

A/N: Please give me some reviews! You wouldn't want me to **cry** would you? I know it's not very long but I swear there will be more to it. You'll find out in due time what went awry.

**One Month Earlier**

"I spoke with Ecklie two weeks ago..." Sara said calmly. Grissom looked at her, wondering why she was telling him this. "He's hiring me for the dayshift position." Gil looked dumbfounded, just as she suspected he would. "I...I guess I have no choice but to let you go," he replied resolutely.

"Mr. Grissom," she said breathlessly. "You already have let me go."

He pulled his glasses from his eyes and massaged his temples. "I...Sara, we talked about this already." He looked exhausted. Sara remembered the days when he was walking with a spring in his step. "You said you understood," he said avoiding her stare.

She gave him a grimace that conveyed her unhappiness. "I do understand. I do now. I thought that maybe you'd changed, but I was wrong. Believe me, Mr. Grissom, I completely understand."

"What is this 'Mr. Grissom' nonsense? You've never called me that before."

"I've never wanted to get away from Gil Grissom before," she replied cryptically.

He stared at her, unsure what to make of her last statement. "Get a way from me?"

"Yep, you see Mr. Grissom, I can't just go back and play pretend. I can't act like everything is okay when it's not. So to distinguish reality from fantasy, I've decided to call you 'Mr. Grissom'. Any good employee would show her boss respect. After all, that's all we really are, **_boss and employee_**. Now," she said tersely. "Can I have my transfer papers..._please?_"

Present Day 

It was a gray Sunday morning. The clouds hung over head like Vultures circling a dead carcass. Rain fell discreetly, as if it had no right to be there and it was trying not to make its presence known. Little droplets littered the pavement here and there. The steam rising from the hot asphalt and the splatters that hit her face as she processed the victim lying in front of her made her want to curl up under a warm blanket and sleep her troubles away. Why couldn't people hibernate?

Rain like this brought back happy memories, but with the good always came the bad.

_"You have the softest skin."_

Sara tucked a strand of her dark chocolate hair behind her ear and bent over to pull a red fiber from the vic's mouth. She gave the girl's face a long, hard look and realization hit her. She looked so close to Kaye Shelton that she could almost _be _Kaye Shelton. Sara sighed and thought back to the case from so long ago. Grissom had won her heart with the pig experiment, showing that he really did care for her. She gave a long sigh and closed up her kit.

_His fingers traced a path from the underside of her breast down to her navel. The look in his eyes mesmerized Sara and terrified her at the same time. He looked completely focused and intent on nothing but her. She could almost feel the holes that his gaze burned into her, and once or twice she looked down to see if he'd charred her. Grissom licked his lips. He needed her. A shiver raced down Sara's spine._

"Sidle!" Ecklie shouted form across the parking lot. "C'mon, this ain't the night shift. Move it!" Sara gave his retreating form the finger. God she hated him.

/"_Transferring to dayshift is the best thing you've done, kid. Just remember the torture of working in the company of Grissom."/_

Sara's coffee-brown eyes watered. She wiped the burning tears away furiously and collected her kit. CSI Sidle climbed into her black SUV and tore from the Bellagio parking lot.

Three Months Prior 

"Grissom!!! That tickles!!!" She laughed uncontrollably as he traced his index finger from the tip of her big toe to her ankle. He had a feather light touch that caused Sara to giggle with every stroke of his finger.

"Miss Sara needs to clip her toenails," he said matter-of -factly, flashing her a warm smile.

She tried to stifle a chuckle and yanked her foot out of his grasp. "How did that go from foot massage to an attack on my foot?"

"I just get these urges to attack you," he smiled teasingly.

Sara rolled over on top of him, her silk nightgown pressed against his bare chest. She fingered the tiny hairs there and leaned her head on him. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and she was close to falling into a catnap. This is what happiness is supposed to be like, she thought to herself. "Grissom?"

"Mm."

"Do you think the team will figure us out?"

"Not likely. We're both professionals. We'll keep it simple at work."

"What if they do?" she asked as she fiddled with a loose thread on the navy sheets.

"They won't. Now go to sleep, honey, before I have to tickle your feet again."

Grissom pulled her closer and pressed his lips against her hair.

"Hey, Gil, what are you so happy about?" Catherine asked knowingly. He'd most likely been with a woman.

"Aren't I always happy?"

Oh, yeah, definitely a woman.

"Mm…no. But it's nice to see you so jovial. Does that mean you're in a good enough mood NOT to put me on another B&E?" the stylish woman asked.

"Mm…no."

"C'mon, Gil! This is the third one this week!" The suddenly not-so-stylish woman protested.

He sighed and leaned against the doorframe of the break room. "Cath, you're the best I've got to train Greg. He needs something simple right now."

"Why can't Sara help take him on a case? He likes her anyway."

Grissom's eyes became dark and stormy. He seemed to have a fit of anger take over him for a second. In a flash, the look was gone, and Catherine sensed some serious jealousy going on. "Oh," was all she said.

"Oh?"

"I just figured out why you don't want Sara with him. What about Nick…or Warrick? C'mon, Gil!! Please???"

He sighed in defeat. "Fine."

Grissom stepped back as a nerf ball whizzed past his head and struck fridge. "Sorry!" Nick called sheepishly from the end of the hall. "I was aiming for Warrick's head."

Warrick positioned himself to the side and laughed. "Good job, Stokes. Better luck next time."

"Better luck with what?" Sara asked as she pushed past Grissom and entered the break room.

"Um," was all Grissom could say. No one could deny him his lack of speech. Even Nick, who thought of Sara as a little sister of sorts, couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was dressed in a flesh colored, quarter inch sleeve V-neck and red pants made of leather. Her head hung down as usual, but with two sections pulled back behind her head. She looked gorgeous. "Right. Where's Greg?"

"Right here, Boss…" he gulped. "Hiya, Sara." His eyes nearly fell out of his skull. Nick, Warrick and Catherine exchanged amused glances. Grissom, however, was none too pleased.

"Get in here, Greg." The former lab-tech perched himself on the couch next to Sara, which seemed to set Grissom into an undiscovered level of contempt for the poor, Norwegian, CSI I. "Catherine and Warrick, you have a murder suicide. Nick and Greg, B&E. Sara, you're solo."

The nightshift waited for the tension in the room to thicken, but they were amazed when nothing went awry. No broken coffee makers, no screaming, or cowering Greg Sanders. Sara took the slip from Grissom and folded it in half without reading it. Catherine found her behavior extremely odd.

Nick and Greg rose in unison. "Alright, Greggo, let's get to work."

"Yes sir, mister crappy football thrower, sir!" Greg teased as he exited the break room.

"Okay, just for that, you get to clean my equipment."

They all heard a loud groan from down the hallway.

"Okay Warrick, let's go," Catherine ordered. Warrick followed silently behind.

As they exited the room Sara unfolded the piece of paper. "Grissom…a rape?"

Grissom grimaced. "Well, we need a female to do it, Sara."

"I…a female? What about Catherine? Why do I always get the rape cases? That's bullshit, Grissom."

He stood silently in front of her.

She stormed from the break room angrily and headed to her SUV. She climbed in, buckled her seatbelt and pulled out of the parking lot. She turned the vehicle in the direction of the PD.

All through shift, she cursed Grissom under her breath. This case was particularly tough; the girl was only thirteen. The OB/GYN pulled a rape kit on the girl, confirming the teenager's story. Her blonde hair framed her small, sad face. Sara suddenly had a flash of empathy for Catherine. The girl looked entirely too much like Lindsey.

The young girl, named Michelle Cavanaugh, told the story of her father raping her. Sara fought hard to hold the tears back that threatened to spill. She'd need some kind of outlet after shift.


	2. Love and Laughter

**Sunday Morning Memories**

A/N: Disclaimer: CSI is not mine, but if it was...dreams happily. I loved the reviews. Please send more!

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**Three Months Prior Continued**

Sara stared at the lone bottle placed in front of her. The colorful refractions bouncing off of it from the stage lights were like warning signs. "Yield". "Stop. "Dead end." Yes, she knew that that was exactly what was at the bottom of the Heineken bottle she'd already paid for and had intended to drink.

She studied it closely as if she were a hunter stalking her prey. "Okay," she thought. "It's not as if _one beer _is going to affect you adversely." She shook her head. She knew better than that. She'd chase one beer with another and then another, all because of some stupid case. Sara shook her head once more and rose from the table. Tossing a few bucks on the polished surface, she headed decidedly for the parking lot. What she really needed was to go home and sleep.

Then again…that's when the nightmares would come.

Grissom paced what was known as a "living room" in Sara's apartment. She should have been home two hours ago. Had the case affected her so terribly that she was out somewhere drowning her sorrows? He hoped not…

"Shit," Grissom cursed as his pot of potatoes boiled over. He raced to the stove and turned the dial to 'low'. Opening the oven, a jet of steam blasted him in the face. He stared in at his broccoli and cheese casserole. Things had to be perfect. He wanted to right the wrongs he had made by giving her the rape case. He wanted to right every wrong.

His head snapped up as the bolt lock of the door turned over. The handle twisted around and the door was pushed open by an unforeseen force. Sara stepped forward. He jaw fell and her eyes shot out of her head. "What are you doing here, Grissom?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I found your spare…I figured I'd let myself in. I wanted to cook dinner for you."

She looked at him skeptically. Yeah, as if Grissom could cook. "I _can cook, _Sara!"

She gave him an apologetic smile and shut the door behind her. "Sorry, I've never seen you cook before."

Grissom returned her smile. "I'm going to go change," she informed him and sauntered from the room.

When she returned she was delighted to find dinner already out on the table in front of her. All thoughts of her case from earlier had been banished from her mind. Now as she thought of the meal waiting for her, her tummy grumbled. She was starving.

She took a seat at the table, Grissom seated across from her. "What are we having?"

"Mashed potatoes, broccoli and cheese casserole, and Italian bread," he replied.

"Sounds good." Sara took a tentative bite. She soon found that Gil Grissom was not a liar. He could cook exceptionally well.

"Do you like it?" he asked after she'd taken a few more bites.

"I love it, Grissom, thanks."

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I know you hate rape cases, Sara."

She leaned back in her chair and rested her head on her hand. "Then why do you put me on them?"

He paused before answering her question. "Catherine hates children cases. I still assign her to them. I hate cases with children as the victim too, but I assign myself to those as well. You've got to put your feelings to the side, Sara, or you'll never make it in this job. You're one of the most brilliant people I've worked with, but you've got to stop torturing yourself." He rested his hand atop hers in a gentle gesture.

She knew he was right, that she did get in over her head on these cases. No matter how hard she tried to disassociate any personal feelings from the victim or the suspect, she always came out feeling like she'd failed somehow.

Grissom could tell that Sara was going to need more than just a good dinner to help her heal after opening up this old wound. He thanked the Social Deities that he had at least that much intuition when it came to her. As little as it may be.

He rose from his chair, crossed the space that estranged them and encircled her in his arms. Pressing his lips to hers, he could taste the dinner they'd just shared on her lips. He pulled back and stared into her eyes. They darkened a little, and Grissom could feel his arousal building.

Putting her hand in his, she lifted herself from the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck. Grissom's hands connected at the small of her back. It was almost frightening how delicate and fragile she seemed.

His lips collided with her collarbone. Sara shivered as his tongue trailed a path from her neck to her earlobe. He pulled it into his mouth and worried it with his teeth.

Sara pulled away from his embrace. She could feel her skin stimulating at his touch. Goosebumps rose were his lips and tongue had been. Taking his hand in hers, she pulled him toward the bedroom.

She never did get that sleep she needed.

Present Day 

_His hands gripped her thighs as she writhed under him. She whispered his name, but he remained silent. He was intent on pushing her past her limits. He'd never felt more passionate about anything or anyone, he had decided. Not even his bugs. He knew when she was almost there; it was the 'Geek Mind Meld', as their co-workers had called it._

Sara sat up in bed; the memory she had just dreamed hit her full force. The night air was cold, and she shivered before tugging the covers up around her. It was only a few seconds before she realized that she was freezing because she was drenched in her own perspiration.

She climbed from the bed, fumbling with the switch on the nightstand. _/Stupid/ _thought Sara. _/It's over. He finished it. So STOP DREAMING ABOUT IT!/_

_/I can't/ _the weaker side of her conscience cried. _/I can't stop. It won't just go away…He'll never go away. Bastard./_

After splashing warm water on her face, Sara returned to the bedroom. The digital alarm clock read 5:30. She still hadn't adjusted to sleeping at night. Sara would constantly wake up early and roam her empty apartment because of it. At least, that's the excuse she gave herself.

She headed back to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The glass doors of her shower fogged over with steam. She welcomed the raging hot water. Grissom had told her she showered in water hot enough to boil a lobster. She laughed at the memory of him turning on the faucet and scalded himself. Hearing him yell "Son of a bitch!" had just about done it for her. She had doubled over and tried desperately to make the laughter cease.

The amusement that the memory brought came to an abrupt end. She chided herself. No more thoughts of Grissom.

2 Months Prior 

"Something is very strange here," Catherine commented. "I haven't worked a case with Gil in a week."

"Mm," Warrick responded. He was too exhausted to come up with an appropriate response.

Nick paused his XBOX. "Yea, he's been taking Sara with him on every case. Have you noticed there's no more fighting between those two?"

Greg sighed. "Yea…and I think I know why."

All eyes, including Warrick's half-lidded ones, turned to the newest CSI.

"Spill, Sanders!" Catherine commanded. Greg flinched. She could be so frightening when she was intrigued.

"Well," Greg pronounced the 'ell' extra long. "I saw Grissom and Sara…um…"

"C'mon, Man, before I tell Hodges to inform Grissom of your spelling mistake. 'Funtain' water?" Nick asked.

"I was in a hurry! I forgot the 'O'. Damn." Catherine was about to begin a tirade of curses that involved Greg and death when he opened his mouth again to finish the story. "Anyway, I saw Grissom and Sara pressed up against the Boss Man's Denali."

Catherine's eyes lit up. "Ooh…Were they kissing?"

Greg looked horrified. "EWE! I'm not going into details!"

"Details about what, Greg?"

Greg swallowed a gigantic lump in his throat. He recognized the voice from the door. "Nothing, Grissom…I…"

"He was just talking about…Gothika. He didn't want to ruin the movie for us," Nick interjected.

Grissom looked to each of the CSI's faces. He seemed sated and Greg heaved a relieved sigh. "Aren't you all supposed to be working?"

"We're on our _lunch break_, Grissom. Besides, look at poor Warrick, he needs the rest," Catherine patted his head gently.

Grissom shrugged. "Sara pulls triples all the time."

Catherine couldn't resist. "And by triples you mean…back flips? She does seem flexible."

The CSI's, including Warrick, had a hellacious time stifling their laughter. Greg literally had his whole fist in his mouth, Warrick had his lips pried shut, and Nick was turning red from the air he was holding in his lungs.

Grissom, however, had paled considerably. "I, no…—"

"You know?"

"NO! I meant shifts, damn it!"

As Grissom exited the break room, all four CSI's dissolved into giggles.


	3. Decisions, Discussions & Midnight Visits

**Sunday Morning Memories**

A/N: This chapter is a little bit longer than the others. I'm afraid I kind of rambled, so I'd appreciate it if someone would just let me know if it totally sucked or if it was okay. Thanks!

Disclaimer: All errors, whether CSI based, spelling or grammatical, are mine. I do not own CSI, never will, wish I did.

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"Something has got to be done about this."

He smiled vindictively. "You're so right, Sir. I never would have told you if I didn't think that you'd make the right decision!"

"Who did you say you heard this from, Conrad?"

"I overheard CSI Willows and CSI Brown discussing it in the break room, Sheriff."

"Thank you, Conrad. You can go on home now."

Ecklie rose from his cushy chair and reached across the desk to shake Sheriff Mobley's hand. After Ecklie exited the room, the Sheriff picked the telephone up off its receiver. He had an important call to make.

"_I missed you earlier." She leaned in and kissed him gently. Her fingers traced a pattern across his lips. He grasped her wrist and kissed the tips of her long, delicate fingers._

"He wants to see me in my office? Why?"

"I don't know, Gil," responded Catherine. "But he sounded pissed."

Grissom shook his head, "When isn't he pissed at me?"

He took a seat behind his desk and turned to his computer. Pulling up his personal e-mail account, he found several messages waiting for him. One from his mother , another from SSIDLECSILV.PD.NEVADA , Sara, and of course the usual spam.

He scanned through his mother's e-mail quickly, making a note to send her a reply later. His cursor, in the shape of a beetle no less, slid quickly across the screen and clicked on the e-mail from Sara.

_Gil,_

_How's work going? I wish I could be in tonight to help. Of course, SOMEONE WHO WON'T BE NAMED HERE, made me take my night off. Like there's anything for me to do. They don't even show good movies at 2 a.m. _

_Have you finished the Simmers case yet? Catherine was supposed to get the tox screen back on the father. Oh here I go, talking about work again. _

_Just wanted to drop an email by and check up on you. -)_

_Love you,_

_Sara. _

Gil leaned back in his chair and smiled. Trust Sara Sidle to brighten up his day…

…until Sheriff Mobley walks into the door with an angry expression on his face.

His arms snaked around her waist. He pressed his hand against her stomach and planted a kiss upon her neck. She shivered as his teeth grazed her earlobe. Turning, she looked into his eyes and smiled. Their lips met. Her tongue pried its way into his mouth and explored every part of it. Her hands traveled up his back, squeezing the muscles along the way.

_Grissom broke the kiss and began working his way down her neckline. Soft, faint kisses fell across her body. Sara un-tucked his shirt from his jeans and ran her nails lightly over his stomach. He quivered as her fingers came into contact with his bare skin. His body responded accordingly. He scooped her up and laid her gently on the couch._

Grissom gave him the warmest smile he could muster.

"Can I help you with something?"

Without being asked to, he plopped into a chair.

"From what I've heard, Gil, you're a smart man."

Grissom sat in silence.

"You've led the lab to the second best in the country, you've brought in these young kids and gotten them all to CSI level III, a side from Sanders."

"No, Sheriff, they've pushed themselves to be at level three," he corrected.

"Well, you certainly make a great supervisor. I've heard great reviews from everyone. You're great at decision-making…Usually," Mobley replied. "Gil what possessed you to jeopardize your career like this?"

Grissom could feel a small knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

"What are you talking about?" he asked innocently.

"I'm talking about your off-the-job-behavior."

The knot grew larger.

"I have a lot of behaviors off the job, Sheriff Mobley."

The sheriff rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the relationship between you and Miss Sidle."

The knot worked its way up into his chest and began to choke the air from his lungs.

"I wasn't aware it was a crime to befriend a coworker, Sir."

"I've recently found out that you and your CSI are dating, Grissom, am I right?"

Grissom gave an internal cringe. "Yes, Sheriff, but I don't see what business it is of yours," he replied acidly.

"Dating your co-workers or employees is an infraction of the rulebook. Do you know how we penalize this infraction?"

_The large couch accommodated them both. Grissom stared down into Sara's chocolate brown eyes. His fingers pushed past the hemline of her tiny, purple tank top. He laid his head against her stomach and placed a kiss on her navel. She chuckled, and Grissom smiled against the cool skin of her abdomen._

Greg looked bizarre. He'd seriously over done it this time. As usual, his hair was standing at attention. However, the usual flaxen follicles were no longer completely blonde. The tips of his hair were dyed bright pink. Sara couldn't help but grin. Some people might even say she was grinning maniacally.

"And _why _did you do this again, Sanders?"

He smirked. "I think it looks sexy, Sara. Don't _you_ think it looks sexy?"

"Yes, Greg. Looking like a pink pineapple is definitely a turn on for me."

"I so do not look like a pineapple!"

Sara just smiled and resumed the task of highlighting each phone call to Mrs. Simmers from Audrey Brown. The case had been an odd one. Apparently Audrey, the baby sitter for Mr. and Mrs. Simmers children, had become obsessed with Mrs. August Simmers. After being fired from her job as their babysitter, she became bitter and had stalked the Simmers relentlessly. Despite the Nightshift's beliefs that she had killed the husband in a rage of jealousy, they'd yet to find enough evidence to send her to trial.

"Sara?"

Uh oh. She had planned on him NOT knowing that she'd come into work today. "Hi

Gi…uh…Grissom."

"I thought I told you to stay home tonight," He stated. His eyebrows were pinched together, frown lines formed at the end of his mouth.

"You did. I kinda got bored at home…err _my _home."

Greg looked from the anxious expression Grissom was wearing, to the sheepish appearance of Sara. They both looked as if they'd taken a long ride in a southbound elevator. This amused Greg to no end.

After what seemed like hours of Grissom staring at Sara and Sara staring at him, Grissom finally managed a, "Can I see you in my office?" followed by a ragged breath.

Mutely, Sara rose from her swivel chair and followed the Nightshift supervisor toward his human terrarium.

Grissom took a seat behind his desk and pointed his hand in the direction of a chair. Sara remained at her usual post by the door. She looked defeated.

"I'm sorry. You know I can't stand to stay away from work, Gil. I get bored at home without you."

He sat in silence for minutes after her apology. Leaning forward onto the desk, he sat lost deep in thought. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers and Sara had a sudden feeling she knew what was coming.

"There's no easy way for me to say this."

Her body tensed as she braced herself for his next statement.

"We can't see each other anymore, Sara."

The tears fought their way forward, but Sara's pride pushed them back. There'd be time for crying later. She stood rigid, her eyes boring into his. "How come?"

"Mobley found out," Grissom sighed gloomily.

"Well, what did he say?" she asked.

"He said that a supervisor dating their insubordinate is an encroachment of the rules and punishable by the dismissal of said supervisor."

She felt behind her for the door handle, ready to make her escape. Her eyes shut tight. When she opened them again, she saw Grissom shuffling through papers on the desk.

So he's just going to give up everything we achieved just like that. I really thought I knew him… 

I guess I'll never know him.

"So instead of telling Mobley to hell with him, you're going to tell me to end our relationship?" She inquired icily.

Grissom exhaled noisily. "It's not like that, Sara. I love you. I do. I just…I can't lose my job over this. I want it to work but it can't. I knew it couldn't from the start."

Her eyes blazed with vehemence. "The why the hell did you even play this game with me, Grissom? Why did you do this? Do you take pleasure in making me think that everything is fine and then slicing my throat?" Sara demanded.

She was certain the tears were going to fall as hard and fast as ice in a hailstorm. It surprised her when they never came. She'd shown him her vulnerable side before, but in an instant every door they'd opened together snapped shut and locked. Grissom's silence conveyed a message Sara didn't care to hear. She yanked the door open and stormed from his office in a blinding rage.

The soles of her sneakers pounded against the pavement. Ragged breaths of air came and went quickly from her chest. She ran hard and fast, trying her best to let the anger flow from her mind through her body and out her toes. She jogged the stairs to her apartment building, turned into the hallway that connected 2A and 2B, and stopped in front of her door. Sliding the key into the lock and pushing the door open, she was happy to return to the small yet comfortable living room.

The walls were painted a deep, rich purple. Various pictures and paintings garnished them. A large houseplant sat in the corner next to the window. Her beautiful, vibrant Orchid was placed atop the windowsill, waiting for her to water it. She turned into her kitchenette and opened the fridge, bedecked with photos of the crew, friends and family, and reached for a bottle of water.

Sara sat at her computer desk, trying desperately to push the thoughts of Grissom to the back of her mind. Sighing, she opened her Internet browser. Clicking the link for Google, she decided she would need something stimulating to help dull the ache of the effect of the injustice of the evening.

She scanned through the different articles featured Perfectly Stored DNA in 1,000 Year Old Skeleton

She quickly skimmed the article over. Sara clicked the 'Send to a Friend' link and Greg was sure to find that interesting.

_Fingerprints: Today's Technology_

She reminded herself to print that for Warrick. Perhaps he could inform the website of his miraculous 'air print'.

Finding nothing of interest, Sara leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She had to admit, she was exhausted. She was thankful it had been her night off. That was the only reason why she felt absolutely no guilt about leaving the lab after her discussion with Grissom.

Rising from her chair, Sara decided it was time for a shower. She didn't know why, but the steaming water always helped her to clear her head. She stripped and pushed herself past the shower curtain. The water pounded against her skin and her thoughts turned quickly back to Grissom.

She pondered his sudden decision. Did she really mean less to him than his precious job? If that was the case, why had he even decided to pursue her? Sure, their relationship had been great, but she was sure that she would have been a lot more content with standing idly by and watching him from the sidelines, rather than getting into the game only to be knocked unconscious by a flying hockey puck.

Hockey. She groaned. Somehow, everything related to Grissom. She couldn't work with him any more. A decision had to be made, and fast.

He peered at her over the top of his file. She knew instantly that she was going to hate working for him. She had hated him the minute she saw him. He was a pompous asshole with no respect for anyone.

"Sidle, why is it you want to work for the dayshift?" Ecklie asked.

She paused for a moment. She had to think of something other than, 'I can't stand the sight of Grissom without being able to touch him'. "I don't feel that my needs are being met or that I am able to reach my full potential on nights." Then she added, "Sir."

"Hmm." He leaned back in his chair, his chin resting on his fingertips. "I recently found out that you and your supervisor were involved in a romantic relationship. Is this so?"

She sighed inwardly. "It was. Grissom and I are no longer…involved," she finished lamely.

"Mm-hmm, and can I expect you to fraternize with any of your co-workers on the dayshift, Sidle?" He asked critically.

_Oh sure, Ecklie, I just hop into bed with every little CSI I meet. _

"No."

"Okay," Ecklie replied whilst signing his name at the bottom of her transfer slip. "You start Wednesday at seven. Welcome to dayshift," he stated rather inhospitably.

_Gee, thanks, an opportunity of a lifetime! You, Miss Sidle, have won a free ticket to hell in a hand basket!_

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Sara left his office as quickly as possible.

**Present**

Sara sat, processing the thread in front of her. The red fiber she'd taken from the victim's mouth outside of the Bellagio belonged to the interior of a 1995 Toyota Camry. The victim's boyfriend, Tommy, owned a 1995 Toyota Camry. Sara had also found blood from her victim in the Persian rug of the hotel room that the couple was sharing. She had this one in the bad.

Ah, how she longed for the challenging cases she was given when working under the supervision of one Gil Grissom. She had asked Ecklie before when she was going to receive something that took a little bit more thought. He had simply retorted with, "If you don't like it, you can go back to working nights."

It had been a month since she'd switched from nights to days. She could still hear Greg and Nick's protests, Warrick's indifference, and Catherine's feigned sadness. She kept in touch with the boys, all but Grissom.

Grissom. She had rarely seen him. He had called every now and then, but Sara refused to pick the phone up. This was his screw up. He could fix it when she was ready to let him. If she was ever ready to let him.

"Sidle, Tommy Malone is at P.D. Let's see if we can get a confession out of him," Ecklie commanded. His voice startled her out of her reverie and she silently cursed his name for what seemed to be the three thousandth time.

She followed behind him. He could be a total asshole sometimes, but he was great at getting a suspect to confess. She just hoped his hardcore tactics would do the job today.

Pulling a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, she cocked her head to the side and studied him. He looked away. Catherine had always know that Gil hated to be watched, which is what caused her to peer at him so closely. He was a mysterious figure, a puzzle waiting to be put together. Catherine loved puzzles.

It occurred to her that he looked haggard. In fact, she'd noticed his appearance had gone downhill since Sara's decision to change shifts. He looked as though he got little sleep, at least less sleep than the tiny amount he normally got. His beard was growing scruffier daily, as though he decided that there was no one he should keep is trimmed for. For a man as attractive as he at forty-eight years old, he seemed to look about fifty-eight.

She told him so. "Thank you, Catherine. Next time I need an insult, I'll give you a call," he retorted.

Knowing that she hadn't angered him and hadn't really hurt his feelings either, she pressed on. "Does this have something to do with microscope, Gil?"

He looked up from the Bird's Eye View form in front of him. "What?"

She shrugged. "You know…that discussion we had awhile ago, the one about you lifting your head up from the microscope every so often. Did you try that?"

"Mm-hmm," he replied nonchalantly.

"And how did that go?"

He gave her a scathing look.

"Right. I figured as much. So what happened? C'mon, Gil. Greg saw you two in the parking lot. We know you were involved."

He narrowed his eyes. "You were having discussion about my…activities outside of work?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Well, now I know how Mobley found out."

Catherine frowned. Had he over heard her discussion with her fellow CSI's, she wondered. "I'm going to guess he threatened Sara's job."

"No," Grissom replied. "He threatened _my _job."

Catherine's eyes bulged out of her skull. "_Your_ job? Why wouldn't he fire Sara instead? Wait…Gil…you didn't do what I think you did, did you?"

Grissom raised his hands palm up in a question.

"You didn't dump Sara to keep your job?"

Grissom nodded. "Yes, I did. It's bad enough I was foolish enough to put my job on the line in the first place. I should never have-"

"You should never have given Sara up for that! God, sometimes I think you're the stupidest man I've ever met!" Catherine exclaimed. When was Grissom going to learn anything about human beings aside from their internal organs? "She probably isn't returning your phone calls. You are trying to call her, right?"

"I've tried. No, she won't pick up the phone. Are we done here, Catherine?"

Catherine shook her head. "Do you think it's too late, Gil?"

"Too late for what? For me to beg her forgiveness? Yes! Sara's not that kind of person. She doesn't let things like this go easily, Catherine."

Catherine sighed in frustration. She pulled a pen and paper from his desk, knocking files and forms askew in the process. Grissom just rolled his eyes at her. "Here." She scribbled down a name and address. "You dated her, you should know what she'll like. It's not too late, Grissom. It's not now and it probably never will be."

She rose from her chair and exited the office. Grissom sat alone thinking over the discussion he just shared…or rather the one sided conversation he had just endured. He had thinking to do, and he needed to think quickly.

Boxes littered her apartment floor. Sara stared at the spaces where things had once stood. Her furniture and dishes were still in their places, but her items such as photographs, paintings, the television, and DVD/VCR combo Nick had given her for Christmas were all placed neatly in boxes. She had given Ecklie her two weeks notice yesterday.

After a week of working in the lab without Grissom, she realized that the only way to escape the hold he had over her was to leave the lab completely. Too many things in the Las Vegas Crime Lab reminded her of him. The layout room, where they'd gone over several important pieces of information, the place where she had asked him to pin her down, (she had felt the energy running through his fingers and into her skin that day,) his office, where they shared many important discussions, including the one that has caused her to make this decision.

In the end, it occurred to her that moving was going to be harder than originally imagined. Starting over in a new place would be torture. She would miss her usual banter with Greg and Nick, the shy glances and flirting that David sometimes shared with her, and her very rare moments of female bonding with Catherine.

Most of all, like it or not, she would miss Grissom. He had been her source for inspiration. Any anger she had toward him had fuelled her to finish her cases with a terrifying tenacity. He had shared his gift of intelligence with her. For that, Sara was grateful. She had learned things through her experiences working with him that she knew she never would have learned at any seminar.

Sara loaded assorted books into a box. She stared at the covers, remember how she had read and enjoyed each of these thoroughly. There were a few authored by Mary Higgins Clark, Patricia Cornwell, and Max Allen Collins. Her favorite amongst the group however, was the Entomology textbook Grissom had given her for Christmas. His smile had been warm and welcoming as he passed the book into her hands, apologizing for the lack of wrapping paper.

Her heart had thumped loudly in her chest when their fingers brushed. In fact, she could remember it so well that she swore she could hear the beating of it now. She looked up, startled by the loud thumping.

Suddenly, Sara realized the banging she could hear was coming from her front door. Her front door? Who would come to call at twelve thirty at night? She rose from the kneeling position on the floor that she had taken when packing her stuff away, and carried herself to the door.

She looked through the peephole. Her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected _him _to be her midnight knocker.

Sara slid the chain from its catch and turned the knob. Pulling the door open, she stared into the face of the last person she wanted to see. Gil Grissom stood in front of her, a bouquet of Marigolds, Tulips and Daisies in clutched in his hand.

"Hi."

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A/N: Guys let me know if you want me to end it here or write more. Thanks. 


	4. Paysage aux Papillons

Sunday Morning Memories

A/N: This will be the final chapter. I really hope that you guys enjoyed the story! Feel free to leave reviews. I apologize profusely for the late update! Writer's Block attacked me like a pit bull with rabies. In my world, we pretend that Mea Culpa was a sick nightmare and the Sandman has a vendetta against us.

Disclaimer: All errors, whether they are grammatical or spelling, are mine. Unfortunately, while I own the novels, season 4 DVD set and other CSI memorabilia, I do not own CSI, the characters, or the actors/actresses. (What I would give to have William Petersen!)

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He wasn't sure what had hit him. He felt the freezing sensation of an ice pack on his forehead. The image of a woman standing over him, cradling her right fist in her hand came into focus. 

Strangely enough, the last thing that he remembered occurring was him telling Sara, "I'm sorry, but you know how much my job means to me." He also remembered her cutting him off and a sudden crack resounding.

_Oh,_ was his first conscious thought. He sat up and took in his surroundings. Sara was standing in front of him, looking uncomfortable. He stared past her. It wasn't until now that he glimpsed the many cardboard boxes scattered and stacked on top of one another. He turned to her and asked, "Are you moving?"

Sara ignored his question. "I'm so sorry, Grissom. I--"

He shook he head. "No, I deserved to be knocked unconscious." Grissom realized he was still seated on the floor. He climbed to his feet with as much grace as a newborn horse.

"Sit down on the couch," he heard her voice float across the room from the kitchenette. It had been so long since he'd heard it somewhere other than his memory or her answering machine, that it satisfied him the way food would a starving man.

She rejoined him with two steaming cups of coffee and sat herself down on the loveseat across from him. There was an awkward silence as the pair sipped at their cups. Both tried desperately to figure out how to say what needed to be said.

Sara lowered her cup first. She set it carefully on the small, glass top coffee table sandwiched between them. "Why are you here?" It occurred to her that the question might have come out sounding rude. Frankly, she didn't care. Nope. Not one iota.

Well, maybe a little.

It appeared that Grissom was having trouble phrasing his thoughts. His mouth opened and closed several times. Sara decided he looked somewhat like the pet goldfish, Blondie, she owned as a small child.

Finally he settled upon, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, Sara. I've realized that I need you in my life. Not just at the lab but in my personal life as well. Everyone on the team misses you. Even Catherine."

She gave a derisive snort. "Not possible. She hates me."

"No one hates you, Sara. We all love you. I love you." He'd said it to her before but the words still seemed foreign to her. They rolled off of his tongue with ease and she wasn't surprised or happy when her heart felt like an iron vice had squeezed it.

Music filled his ears. He realized that Sara's stereo was still out, sitting a lone on the floor. The singer's voice sounded familiar but Grissom couldn't place it.

"When you refuse me 

_You confuse me_

_What makes you think I'll let you in again_

_Think again my friend_

_Go on misuse me and abuse me_

_I'll come out stronger in the end"_

Sara rose from her place on the loveseat. She had to distance herself from him. There was no way he was going to suck her back in. She was sick and tired of being pushed and pulled. Strung out and collected again like a yo-yo.

She picked up his empty coffee cup without asking him if he was through and deposited it into the sink. "I guess I should be the one apologizing here," she sighed as she padded across the hardwood floor. "You knew that this wasn't going to work. You tried from the start to tell me so. But I'm pushy, stubborn, and pigheaded. I forced this to happen. I pushed us together."

"_And does it make you sad_

_To find yourself alone_

_Does it make you mad_

_To find that I have grown_

_I'll bet it hurts so bad _

_To see the strength that I have shown"_

Grissom hated knowing that she was right. He had it in his mind from the very beginning that it was doomed.

But now? Now he was hell bent on getting her back. He'd learned just how much he needed her. She was the crazy glue that held him together.

"_You ain't ever coming back to me_

_That's not how things were supposed to be"_

"We were condemned to failure, Grissom." She collapsed onto the loveseat and curled her legs underneath herself. "To answer your question, yes. I am moving. I gave Ecklie my notice."

"_You take my hand just to give it back_

_No other lover has ever done that"_

Sara looked away from his face and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her cheeks were pink with emotion, her eyes dark and thoughtful. She was beautiful. For a moment Grissom thought about the feel of her bare skin against his.

"Do you remember 

_The way we used to melt_

_Do you remember how it felt_

_When I touched you_

_Oh, 'cause I remember very well_

_And how long has it been_

_Since someone you let in_

_Has given when I gave to you"_

"You can't leave Sara. I need you here."

Her head slowly turned towards him. Their eyes locked and she saw the pleading look in them. For once he had let his guard down completely. He looked scared. She had never seen him in such a state.

No. He wasn't going to do this. He'd hurt her too many times already. Who's to say that he wouldn't do it again?

"Grissom," she said softly. A tear slithered down her cheek. "It's too late."

Marina Del Rey, California was a place that she had never been to before. It was funny how many places she'd never been to in her own home state. Her childhood had been spent in Tomales Bay, just outside of San Francisco. She was living at El Caballero Apartments in Hawthorne, just nine miles from the lab in Marina Del Rey.

She tried to tell herself that it was by accident that she had wound up in His hometown. It happened to have the best job opportunity. Honestly.

The sign caught her off guard the first time she'd seen it. It was large and white. The words Roadway Art Gallery, and underneath that Owned by M. Grissom, painted in bold black smiled down at her.

She had passed it daily driving to work for a month straight before she'd decided to visit it. Sara knew that Grissom's mother owned an art gallery in Marina Del Rey. She just never dreamed that she would come across it.

The little gallery was painted in pastel colors. The walls a light purple, trimmed with white. It reminded Sara of a very large, square Easter egg. She strolled a long the hallways, taking in every painting and photograph. The pictures were breathtaking. Grissom's mother had exceptional taste.

It didn't take long for Sara to find her favorite painting. The artist was Jean Pales. The painting came a live for Sara as she stared at it. She could almost feel his brush striking the canvas, painting a lovely scene of a woman and man engaged in a Waltz. The woman's dress, a lovely, white gown was pristine, and Sara had to wonder if the artist had captured a real situation.

Her gloved hand in his, the other on his shoulder, she had a look of pure adoration on her face. Her dance-partner's face wasn't visible as his back was turned toward the onlookers. Sara could tell that the painting meant something to artist. It was so much more than a box of supplies, a canvas and a couple dollars in his pocket.

"Do you like it?"

Sara spun around quickly. The woman speaking to her was shorter than she. Sara found herself staring down into the second most captivating eyes she'd ever seen. Crystal blue, like her son's, they reflected light and shined like a crystal prism hanging in the sun.

Sara thought for a moment, and remember Grissom telling her that his mother was deaf. 'Yes'. She signed; trying desperately to recall the few words he'd taught her to sign. Mrs. Grissom looked so much like her son when she laughed that Sara very nearly fled the art gallery.

"It's okay," she said. "I can read lips and can still speak clearly."

Sara smiled at her, relieved that she didn't have to look like a total ass.

"It's a beautiful painting, is it not?" She asked.

Sara nodded her assent and turned back toward it, studying it closely. "Where did you get it?" Sara asked.

"I picked it up on a trip to Paris a few summers ago."

Sara's eyebrows nearly disappeared. "Which is your favorite?" She questioned.

Mrs. Grissom smiled at her. "I don't have a favorite. I love them all." She motioned for Sara to follow her and strolled down the hall and turned into a room on the left. On the far wall she pointed to a painting.

"This is my son's favorite."

"Paysage aux Papillons" she read. "By Salvador Dali." She smiled at the picture. It wasn't a surprise that it was Grissom's favorite.

The painting was odd. It appeared to be a large, stone wall in the middle of the desert. Two butterflies fluttered against the wall, casting shadows off and making the dry, barren setting seem appealing.

Tears slid down her face and she admonished herself for crying in public. She hated to do so, even if it was appropriate in this bleak setting. Fittingly, the sky was overcast and gray mirroring the mood of the many people in the cemetery.

She approached the casket and placed the white lily in her hand amongst the others. She'd been touched by death several times in her life. Only one other had ever shook her like this.

She'd befriended Grissom's mother and they had frequent visits. She would teach Sara sign language, they'd visit different art galleries together and have lunch. Not once did she ever let on that she knew Gil.

"Sara?"

She turned slowly, feeling like she'd been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. "Hi, Grissom."

He looked dumbfounded. His tear stricken face distressed Sara and it was all she could do to keep from rushing to him and wrapping her arms around him. He was dressed in a dark suit, white dress shirt underneath and an ice blue tie that complimented his eyes. Catherine has probably picked out for him.

He looked incredible. Incredibly tired. The lines on his face seemed to show bolder than ever before and she could tell that he'd been hurting for months. Much longer than when he'd found out about his mother's death.

He advanced toward her slowly. "What are you doing here, Sara?"

She didn't have the strength to square her shoulders or hold her chin up. She knew she'd see him here, but she wished that he didn't see her. "Just…paying my last respects."

He was befuddled. "To whom? My mother?"

She nodded.

"How did you know my mother?" His shoulders were slumped forward and Sara was aware that all he needed right now was a friend to console him; Too many losses in too few months.

"C'mon," she replied. "I'll tell you about it over a drink."

He followed her out of the cemetery and to her car.

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A/N Lyrics from Maroon Five's Through With You and Not Coming Home. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! 


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